Once safely inside the crammed conveyance, Elizabeth lay against Zachary’s chest with her eyes shut and sobbing. Shudders ran through her, one after another, each time she tried to speak or move. Her hair had come loose and was dragging in her eyes. He smoothed it back, looking her over from head to toe.
“I thank you. You’ve placed yourself in grave danger on my account,” said Elizabeth.
Zachary raised a brow. “I placed myself in grave danger the moment I met you.”
Zachary smiled inwardly as she attempted to hide her embarrassment by settling her skirts around her legs. Her scent washed over him. Though it was mild, he detected the sophistication of a French fragrance. Regardless of his intentions to not allow his thoughts to go in that direction, his gaze drifted down to her lips. Had thought of that innocent kiss he’d with her at the ball. Had thought of that kiss more than he liked. Her inexperience had been obvious.
The unfortunate memory of her assault had come to the forefront. He imagined how painful the process of healing would be for her, knew with time and love she’d gain confidence, a sense of control and realize her self-worth. Who would show her patience? Not the duke. His hands fisted, but her lush mouth tipped up in a smile, and her violet eyes held a soft amethyst tint as she observed him.
She deserved better than him. Her father had made that clear enough. Guilt dared to raise its unbidden head.
“You’re scowling.” Her voice was soft with just the right amount of husk to rake over his senses. The skin on the back of his neck stiffened in awareness.
Across from them, Mrs. Merriweather cleared her throat. “You can put me down now, Mr. Chen.”
The matron had alerted Zach of his singular attentions. Elizabeth colored, and Zach reverently and reluctantly moved her snug to his side.
A sharp realization sizzled through his brain and the angry mob they had managed to escape. “Do you realize how your foolhardiness put Mrs. Merriweather, Fiona and yourself at risk? Why were you in that part of town? Anyone with half a brain would know”
“Sarcasm, Mr. Rourke is the last refuge of the imaginatively bankrupt.” She lifted her chin a notch and crossed her arms over her chest. “My dreaded brother-in-law lied to us. We were tricked to go to that unseemly show.”
Zach narrowed his eyes. “You attended a burlesque?”
“Not my proudest moment,” Elizabeth sniffed. “We left two minutes into the first act. The moment we stepped outside, a riot started. The incident was out of our control…that is for someone with half a brain might realize.”
Zachary tamped down a grin. To poke the cougar and to bask in the blaze of her righteous wrath.
“Do you ever smile? Or is it a peculiarity of yours?” Anger and the chill in the night air had added spots of color to her cheeks. She was beautiful.
His gaze dropped to the attractive curve of her bosom before he could stop it, forcing him to drag it back up to her face. Trying to appear at ease, he pretended to be intrigued by the flames flickering from the coach lantern. “Perhaps I’m shy.”
Her gaze bored into the side of his head harder than a punch delivered by the famous oyster-shucking boxer, Gans. “Your brazen confidence is as expansive as the cosmos. That is why it is so tragic. Nonetheless, it proves God has a sense of humor.”
“What I find needing questioning,” said O’Reilly, unable to keep the venom from his voice, “is that your brother-in-law abandoned three defenseless women. I smell a rat.”
“That Roderick is going to get a piece of my mind,” said Mrs. Merriweather. “To tell you the truth, I think it was a trick to compromise Elizabeth. The riot started out of nowhere, as if it were staged.”
Zachary leaned his head back. “What bothers me is a suspicious carriage that left in a hurry. Not the kind you see in this end of town unless it was for nefarious purposes. My instincts tell me there is a connection.”
“How is it, Zachary, you were at the theater?” said Elizabeth.
“One of my customer’s gave us tickets. Thankfully, we were late. The outcome would have been a disaster.”
“I’m worried about what might have happened to my Fiona,” said O’Reilly, tightening his arms around her. “From now on, you are not to go into that part of town without my permission.”
At the aggravating smugness in his smile, she gave a dismissive sniff. “I don’t take orders, Mr. O’Reilly. I barely take suggestions.”
“I’d disagree with you, Miss Fiona, but then we’d both be wrong. Look how my dearest is smiling.”
Fiona huffed. “Don’t confuse a smile with someone baring their teeth.”
Elizabeth gazed at Zachary. “I’m mystified with how you three men were able to fight a massive crowd.”
O’Reilly puffed his chest out. “You must understand. I’m a boxer. And there is great talent in that.”
Mrs. Merriweather pressed a hand to her heart. “I’ve never seen the like. Not to diminish you, Mr. O’Reilly, but Mr. Chen and Mr. Rourke were extraordinary.”
“None of that fancy windmill fighting for me like Chen and Zachary. Although I do enjoy the monk at my back. He’s like a ghost.” O’Reilly snapped his fingers. “He can walk through walls. You can’t hear him, can’t see him, or feel his touch.”
